"All Role Playing Gamers dream of stepping into the shoes of their characters.  But when Simon Brewer finds himself really living the life of his favorite character, the saucy thief Foxglove, he discovers that Dungeons are no fun in real life, and Dragons are hazardous to your health!"

FOXGLOVE


or,
Reflections in a Gorgon's Eye
A Transgendered Fantasy

This story is dedicated every Gamer who had a really great game ruined by the unwanted intrusion of crass reality.

Edited by Steve Zink

Chapter 23

Fox Soup

It took them two days to ride to Plandury. Plandury was a nice little town on the far side of the Jarrow River. Its apparent reason for being was a very large old partial stonework bridge with sturdy timber planks that rose in two stately arches over the river, anchored on a small islet in the middle of the river. That bridge worried Foxglove. It was too big, too wide and too sturdy. If the War Horseman didn't know about it, she'd be amazed. And if he didn't immediately see it as a major factor in getting his troops across the Jarrow, he'd be an idiot. And she knew that he was no idiot.

The far side of the bridge from Plandury had guard towers. Foxglove took one look at them and figured that it would take the War Horseman about an hour to come up with fifteen different ways of either bypassing them completely, or turning them to his advantage.

As they rode across the bridge Foxglove swept away thoughts of strategy, and concentrated on the really important things - a bath and a change of clothing! It seemed like she'd been wearing the same leather breaches for months! Months - there was something there, but it slipped past her grasp.

Plandury was a charming little place built of half-timber and fieldstone. But there was something wrong about it. No, not something _wrong_, just different. The way that one vital living bit of country is noticeably different from another. And yet, the two sides of the river were more or less the same kind of country, at least to the naked eye. But Plandury seemed tamer, more ordered than the country that she'd been travelling through for so long.

The column stopped in front of the barracks of the local watch. The watch captain came out, not surprised, but not terribly pleased to see them, either. "So. The mouthy Elf-woman was telling the truth. I was hoping that she was just barking mad."

Justin leaned over in his saddle. "Is Lady Mornsong still here, or did she and her companions keep going to Seth-Barrak?"

"Oh, she's still here, and making a festering nuisance of herself, talking all kinds of furor about armies and monsters and what all."

Henrak got down off his horse. "Exactly what has the ladyelf been doing?"

"Oh, she's been chewing everyone's ears off, trying to get the locals to call up the militia and do some weird ritual to get the local crops to come in ahead of time."

Foxglove smirked. She leaned over to Zohar and murmured, "Oh, Dear. It looks like Avalyn has her nose out of joint, and she's trying to play catch-up."

Justin dismounted. "If they're still here, where can we find them?"

"They've taken rooms over the tavern. There's a bunch of bullyboys from a town called Flournoy with 'em, and this weird lookin' wooden doohickey that they's real protective of. Which should we be more worried about - that Army that they was talkin' about, or whatever's in that wooden thing?"

"The wooden ark is harmless. Explaining would take too much time."

"And what about that army? How far behind you would you say it is?"

Henrak thought for a moment. "Oh, depending on how fast they've decided to move, three days to a week. And I doubt that they'll be dawdling."

The watch captain pointed them in the direction of the livery stable. As they walked the horses there, Foxglove quietly said to Henrak and Justin, "They're not ready for this. This is a wide-open town - they don't really understand shutting the gates and toughing it out. Brugen, the watch captain from Flournoy could'a eaten that schlub back there for breakfast. The bridge gate is a joke. The bridge itself is so wide that they could roll _two_ of those juggernauts side by side across it without rubbing the wheels. The Army will roll through this place barely breaking stride. They'll just scoop up everyone and everything here, chew them up and not bother to spit them out."

Wengrel grimaced. "You paint a gloomy picture, Lady Foxglove. Do you have anything to pull out of your bag of tricks?"

"Only one, and the cure is only slightly better than the disease - burn the bridge. Without that bridge, the Army will have to travel miles out of its way, and either find another bridge or a ford. That will at least give us time to prepare a real defense. Right now, the War Horseman is probably breaking out the whips to keep his darklings on a forced march to get here as soon as they can."

Wengrel looked dubious. "But, Lady Foxglove! That bridge is a major artery of commerce for this region! Plandury only exists because of that bridge! Destroying that bridge would be the same as burning the entire town to down to the basements!"

Foxglove gave Wengrel a knowing look. "Let me guess - Plandury is part of your father's estates, and a major tax farm, right?"

Wengrel didn't even blink. "I have a duty to see after the welfare of my father's subjects."

And your father's tax base, Foxglove thought to herself. <sigh> "Whatever. All right, how about this - you write up letters to your fathers and superiors, asking for more troops to devote to the defense of the bridge. Doctor Zohar should be able to get the message there with his flying carpet more quickly than a normal messenger should. But we rig up the bridge with big obvious fire-starting gear. Send the message to the War Horseman that if he manages to force us past the bridge, we'll torch it as a last resort. He'll try something subtle to defuse the firestarters before starting a real assault. And at the very least, we're moving the arena from the overt to the subtle, where the odds aren't so vastly against us."

That said, they came to the livery stable. Foxglove saw to Horndog's needs and warned the stabler that any funny business with the unicorn was a _very_ bad idea. As the men tended to their own mounts, Foxglove walked by herself toward the tavern. Then she heard a familiar harp playing, and she changed direction. She followed the music to a spreading chestnut tree, where she found Avon singing to a group of townschildren. And a few admiring young ladies of the town, as well.

Foxglove let him finish his song, and then said wryly, "Do you know 'Melancholy Baby'?"

"Foxglove?"

"No, 'Melancholy Baby'. I goes something like this - 'Come to meeee, my melancholy bayyy-beee...' "

"When did you get here?"

"Just rode in, and got through stabling the horses. Where are the others? We need to get together and talk."

"Oh, Mornsong is chatting up the local quality and J'Mira and Kitsune are going along as bodyguard cum status symbols."

"Hmmm... Isn't diplomacy pretty much your job?"

Avon struck a few sour notes on his harp to communicate an unhappy affirmation. "But I know better than to get in the way of a woman who has her cap set on something." Then Mornsong, followed by Kitsune and J'Mira, rounded the corner. "Well, speak of the devil."

"Foxy!" Kitsune cried out gladly. The mystic ran up and gave the redhead a big hug, followed in close order by J'Mira. Avon watched as J'Mira wrapped her arms around Foxglove and made sad puppy sounds. J'Mira obliged by sliding down into his lap and giving him a deep kiss.

Foxglove turned to the slightly miffed Mornsong. "So, I've heard that you were out trying to drum up local support. How did it go?"

Mornsong tossed her golden locks and sniffed. "These yokels are impossible! They're too busy playing their silly little local politics to stir him or herself to any kind of meaningful effort. They won't do anything until that juggernaut comes rolling over that bridge, and even then they'll expect the Empire to miraculously manifest troops in their midst to handle it!"

"Not to worry, Blondie. Even as we speak, Henrak, the other nobles and the two officers are writing letters demanding reinforcements to hold this town. Zohar's gonna deliver them, so the letters will be in Seth-Barrak by tonight. Give them a few days to actually muster up the troops to come. You've been there, Avon - how many days ride from Seth-Barrak are we?"

Avon broke his lip-lock. "Oh, I'd say a day and a half at a canter if the weather holds good. At least five days at a forced march for infantry."

Foxglove gave a disgusted sigh. "So we're going to have to buy as much time as we possibly can to let the reinforcements get here. Which means that the Stealth Squad goes out to salt a few more watering holes and jump a few more forward scouts. Which won't be easy - after what we've been doing, their scouts are either going to be airborne or travelling in large groups. They'll probably use what's left of their cavalry. Lovely - another week of eating dust. Speaking of dust, where do I go around here to get a decent hot bath?"

J'Mira slid out of Avon's lap over his objections. "Oh, you are going to love this, Red! C'mon!"

J'Mira and Kitsune led Foxglove through the wooden town to a white stone building that really didn't fit either the scheme or technology of the rest of the buildings. Foxglove stopped in front of the colonnaded facade and asked, "Okay, what IS it?"

"We figure that it's this world's equivalent of an ancient Roman public bath. The Romans - or whoever - built this over a mineral hot springs..."

"Another hot springs? Like the one at that Inn we were at? Isn't that just a tad too convenient?"

Kitsune shrugged. "Not really. Where you have hot springs, you usually also have regular springs. We figure that the old Roman - or whatever - town was built to take advantage of the springs, and the baths and the bridge were built later."

The baths were built into the side of a hill, and the actual baths themselves were a grotto where the bathing area had been tiled over. The layout was similar to a Japanese public baths, with separate areas for men and women.

Foxglove stretched out in the hot, sulfur-laden water and let herself completely relax for the first time in at least a month. "Ooohhh, Yeeesss... I really needed this." They lay there for a long while in companionable silence.

Finally, Kitsune broke the silence. "So, Foxy - exactly how _did_ Zohar pull off that stunt with the obelisk?"

"Why don't you ask him tonight? He's gonna havta leave in the morning, so he's gonna want a little pillow talk afterwards. You know how men love to brag." Kitsune and J'Mira gave each other amused looks.

Foxglove opened her eyes and said, "The worst part about going out to slow that army down is, all that slowing them will do is delay the inevitable. The reinforcements won't be able to hold the bridge."

J'Mira pulled a loofa-like pad out of a wooden bucket and started scouring her legs. "I dunno about that, Red. The Darkling Army is patterned after the Roman legions, using infantry as their primary strength. But these guys have heavy cavalry that looks like it's based on the Norman Wedge charge. And the Norman Wedge ripped through every shield wall that was ever put in front of it."

"True. But the Norman Wedge was never pointed at a magically propelled juggernaut. That thing isn't just a mojo'd up siege engine. It moves under it's own power. The War Horseman will probably arrange his shield wall just behind the Juggernaut, with archers right behind that. AND that Juggernaut is probably even better at breaking shield walls than lance charges are. Nope, the only way that Juggernaut isn't coming across that bridge is if the bridge isn't there went it gets here. And Wengrel is never gonna let us torch it. And once they're across that bridge, they're gonna eat everyone still in this town alive! Probably literally! These people just aren't up to defending their turf against that kind of force!"

Foxglove shifted her stance. "That reminds me - when I crossed the bridge, I got this weird impression that things are... different here. How about you guys?"

J'Mira handed Foxglove the 'loofa' and indicated her back. "Yeah, it's like this place is _tamer_ than the other side of the river. On the other side, it's a lot more 'rugged frontier'. This is pretty settled country. I don't think the folks around here are used to having ugly-nasties come knocking on their door. It kinda reminds me of what I've seen of provincial France on TV and in the movies."

Kitsune shrugged. "Well, they would be. That river is pretty wide, and it makes for a natural barrier to barbarians and brigands and such. And everyone knows it. Nobody's even tried to come across that bridge in force in years, you can tell it from the way that people act around here."

Foxglove shook her head. "Nope. It's more than that. It's in the air, and in the ground, and in the water. One fundamental way of being ends at that river, and another one starts. This side is more...orderly, more set in its ways."

Kitsune cocked an eyebrow. "You think it means something?"

"Dunno. I doubt it's anything of immediate use, but there's something there." Then Foxglove stopped scrubbing.

J'Mira turned around and looked at her. "Oh no. We are _not_ going to do it."

"Do what?"

"I know that look. It's your 'I just got a really sneaky idea for a really flashy stunt' idea look. Just because Zohar upstaged you, that doesn't mean that you have to one-up him! I don't know what you've got cooking, but can't we do it the simple way for once?"

Foxglove gave her Fox Sisters an evil grin. "Now, now, Jampot - doing the simple way is playing into the War Horseman's hands! Besides, it's boring!" She gestured them closer. "Now, gather 'round, kiddies, and listen to your old Uncle Deadly..."

CHAPTER 24

Now All We Need Is A Sand Table...

Foxglove called the Barrakan nobles and officers to a meeting in the office of the Lord Mayor of Plandury. Since they had to decide what was going to be done to defend Plandury anyway, they obliged her. And since Lord Wengrel's father owned the town and all the land that he'd ever seen on this side of the river, the Mayor obliged them as well.

Foxglove waited until they were all seated before making her entrance. She was wearing an emerald green gown with a squarish front that nicely displayed her creamy décolletage. The dress had a white stomacher and wide flaring bellflower sleeves. Her hair was freshly washed, dressed and perfumed. Hargrim took his stogie out of his mouth and gave a low whistle. "Loookin' Goood! What's with the glad rags, Red?"

"Oh, I had my travelling clothes cleaned and they're still drying. Kitsune got this for me. I'm still not sure where she got it." Then she gave the assembled nobles a hard look, and re-directed their gaze to her face. "I'm up here, guys." Then she snapped her fingers as if to bring them out of a trance. "Okay, we're all here to thrash out what we're gonna do to keep the Army from taking that bridge. Justin, would you bring that model over here?"

Justin tore himself away from his 'meditations' and took the four-foot long scale model from the mantle of the Mayor's fireplace. Once the model was on the desk, Foxglove waved her hands, producing images of a river running under the model, and just enough of the town of Plandury to fit on the desk. She waved another hand, and tiny figures of men on horses and a ragtag group of militiamen appeared. "My Lords, Gentles, you are the ones with the tactical expertise - these images before you represent the forces that we have to protect the bridge. Please arrange your forces in the formation that you plan to use against the War Horseman.  All you have to do is touch each image, and then move your finger to the spot where you want to place them. The image will follow."

It took them a bit to get used to moving the immaterial 'toy soldiers' about, but once they go the hang of it, the hardened veterans quickly started to look more like small boys at play. After a bit of squabbling, they settled on four rows set on the bridge, with the two center rows being the cavalry. Once the cavalry had charged, they decided, the infantry on the outer flanks would reform into two rows across the width of the bridge in a double shield wall.

Foxglove nodded. She walked over to the far side of the model and negligently twiddled her fingers. A scale figure of the Juggernaut appeared, backed by row after row of darkling infantry set in reinforcing shield walls. The formation approached the bridge.

"Charge!" shouted Jassen of AuDalles. The cavalry images obeyed, charging at the flank to the right of the Juggernaut. The cavalry lance bashed through the first shield wall, but spent most of its energy doing so, and got caught up breaking through the second shield wall. Then it found itself caught between the third shield wall and remnants of the first and second. The darkling infantry pulled them from their mounts and tore them to pieces. And as this was happening, the Juggernaut continued its relentless advance on the shield wall defending the bridge. It plowed through the shield walls, crushing the foot soldiers under its front roller, with the supporting darkling infantry mopping up those who broke formation. When the miniature juggernaut reached the end of the model, streams of darklings poured around each side into the miniature Plandury and faint screams could be heard. With a wave of her hand, Foxglove dismissed the image, and the desktop held only the model again.

Olmer, the Captain of the Bishop's Guards, leaned back and said, "But these are only phantasms, wisps of fool's fire that only show what Milady Foxglove wishes us to see."

Foxglove gave him an 'oh, grow up' glare. Not wanting to explain the concept of mathematical models and computer simulations to a bunch of guys who probably couldn't do long division, she said, "The images only reflect what will happen." She sat down and regarded them. "The War Horseman has three formidable assets - sheer numbers, discipline, and this-" She waved a hand and the image of the Juggernaut grew to fill the model. "The Juggernaut is a magical construct, powered by both the blood of the sacrifices they keep feeding it and the belief of the darklings that follow it. It can withstand any cavalry charge thrown at it, roll over any shield wall you put in front of it, and batter through any obstacle. And, given its diabolic nature, it will probably slurp up any magical energy thrown at it." She waved her hand again, the juggernaut image shrank and the other images returned. "Now, see if you can come up with something that works."

For the better part of three hours, the military men tried one variation after another. But each time, the darkling shield walls trapped their charges and the Juggernaut just rolled through their defenses.

The non-militant members of the party amused themselves going over what maps of the region the mayor had. The maps weren't very accurate, and they had to do a lot of comparing and guessing.

Finally, Wengrel threw up his hands in bitter frustration. "By the Great Weaver! Is there no way to stop this Juggernaut thing?"

Foxglove looked up from the maps. "No. That's the entire point, bubbie."

Kitsune assumed her 'Zen koan' stance and intoned, "The Giant is crippled by his might, and the Emperor is shackled by his crown."

Everyone who wasn't one of the 'Fox Sisters' stopped and gave a collective 'Hunh?'

Foxglove quirked a smile. "What little miss Fortune Cookie here is trying to say, is that sometimes the most effective measure against an opponent is their own greatest strength." She briskly walked over to the model and wiped the images clean. "First of all, the simplest, most effective way of keeping the Army out of Plandury is to simply torch the bridge." Wengrel started an enraged retort, which Foxglove stopped. "WHICH we will NOT do. _But_, the War Horseman knows this, and he may be expecting us to do just that, for the simple reason that it's what he would do. So, we play on that." She jabbed her finger at points on the bridge, and tiny crockery pots appeared. "These are pots of oil, which we will position, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here." With a wave of her hand, a layer of straw appeared over the length of the model. "But this layer of straw will be the really important thing." Wengrel tried to interrupt, but Foxglove ruthlessly shushed him.

With more jabs of her hand, she placed a double shield wall at the point where the bridge stopped rising and became level. Behind them, she put a double line of archers. Behind the archers, there was a double column of cavalry. "Now, stay with me and keep your comments to yourself until the very last."

She re-created the darkling advance with the Juggernaut in the fore. The tiny archers pelted the rolling horror to no avail. The shield wall braced to meet the Juggernaut's irresistible might, as it had so many times before. But just as the mobile demon-temple reached the very top of the riser, the floor of the bridge collapsed under it, sending the Juggernaut crashing down into the river. The darkling infantry stood for a moment at the hole in the bridge. This gave two barges hidden under the bridge just enough time for the men in them to charge the infantry from either side. "Hold on now, here's where it gets good!" As the darklings were turning to face the attack from their unprotected side, the men of the shield wall were moving thick planks to cover the hole in the bridge. When it was covered, the cavalry charged across, ripping into the darklings rear flank. As the darklings milled about to deal with yet another new threat, the men from the barges slipped past them onto the bridge. The cavalry completed its charge, wheeled about, and charged through the darklings again, back to the safety of the bridge. When the horsemen had cleared the planks, the men of the shield wall pulled the planks back again, effectively 'raising the drawbridge'.

Jassen rubbed his stubbly chin. "It's... complex..., m'lady."

"Oh, it won't destroy the Army, not by a long shot. _But_, it will, Imprimus, keep them out of Plandury and away from the main road to Seth-Barrak, without completely destroying the bridge. Secundus, it will get rid of the Juggernaut, robbing the Army of both its primary front-rank weapon and dealing the darklings a nasty blow to their morale. Tertius, it will put the War Horseman in a position where he either has to take this bridge the hard way, which could take weeks even if we aren't reinforced, or leave his rear flank wide open to a nasty cavalry charge if he moves up the river to the Marshall's ford. And lastly, getting snagged in that kind of a trap will seriously undermine the War Horseman's credibility in his subordinate's eyes. If the darklings think the War Horseman can't take his prize, they'll try to eat him. And without a strong leader to keep order in the ranks, they'll start to eat each other. Their own strength will turn against them."

Theocles looked at the model. "I can see one large flaw in your plan, Foxglove - it requires that the War Horseman do exactly as you want him to do. Generals win battles by _not_ doing as their opponents expect. Your plan requires that the Juggernaut precede the infantry across the bridge. What if he tries to take the bridge by sheer force of arms? The formation that you have us taking is so weak, that he could smell a rat, and not decide to risk his greatest single physical asset."

"A good point, Brother. And there are two things that will insure that he does as I plan. The first-" A flick of a finger produced an image of 'The Great Lord Mardos' that stood filling the entire width of the bridge. "-is a challenge to our old friend, the Anti-Cleric. He can't be happy with the way his last encounter with the 'Great Lord Mardos' turned out. It must seem to many of his collegues that Mardos wiped up the floor with his god. He's got to be spoiling for a rematch. We play that card when they show up.

"The second thing is that if we allow the darklings' scouts to see the other preparations - the jars of oil, the straw and like that - they'll think we're going to torch the bridge. The Horseman won't allow us to do that. He'll assume that we're waiting for the last minute to allow for stragglers."

"And He'll infer that we're trying to get them to commit to to the far side, instead of moving on toward Plandary," Justin added. "But the downside will be that in order to keep us from torching the bridge, he'll try to create a steady stream of refugees. He'll send forward detachments to attack anything that they can reach, just to displace as many people as he can."

"True, Justin, but he'll do that anyway. This way, those people are more valuable to him as as way to keep the bridge open than they would be as food or reinforcements. There's no way we can keep him from attacking them; this way, they have a chance at survival."

Hargrim scowled at the model. "That's all very clever, but you're missing one important thing - it all hinges on the Horseman finding out about your 'desperate plan'. Exactly HOW do we get word to him? Send him a candygram?"

"Oh, that's simplicity itself - since, if we were going to torch the bridge, we'd want to keep it a secret as long as possible, all we have to do is kill all of this forward scouts - except ONE."

Kitsune groaned, "Oh, we gotta go out into the bush _again_?"

Foxglove grinned pitilessly. "Only for a few days, Kit. Just until you run into the first scout patrol. And you'll have my Lords Henrak and Wengrel and their men to keep you company this time."

"You? Won't you be coming with us?"

"Not this time. You won't only be dealing with ground scouts, but aerial scouts as well. Mornsong and I can baffle them with magic, so we'll have to stay here."

"In a nice, warm, dry tavern. My heart bleeds for you. Why not just let the aerial scouts see what we're doing?"

"Because we have to look like we're doing everything that we possibly can to keep them from finding out what we're doing. Remember, you can't let the scout that you let go know that it was anything but his own guts and determination that saved his life."

Kitsune adopted her 'Zen Koan' stance again and murmured, "In a hall of mirrors, the only sure path out is to shut your eyes."

Foxglover rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Okay, I'll bite - what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means 'don't get all wrapped up in clever plans, because the best of plans run aground on the simplest of complications."

Wengrel looked up and said, "And here's an excellent example of such a complication - I'm not sending my men out into that wilderness, just to play out some over-complicated game of yours. It's far too dangerous, and we're much too tired to be effective."

Foxglove crossed her arms and an acid-sweet grin crossed her face. "My Lord Wengrel, do you perchance remember what happened, oh, five days ago?"

Wengrel looked confused.

"When we first met, we had a wager - if you beat me to the gates of Flournoy, I'd do whatever you wanted for a month. I beat you to the gates - you have to do what _I_ say for a week. There's still two days left on that bet."

"But - but I cleaned up that mess!"

"Yes, and you did a wonderful job - you might consider it as a career! But, as I said, you still have two days left on your penalty. I'll let you get a couple of hours sleep before you head out."

CHAPTER 25

Now, Which Side Is She On Again?

Lord Wengrel cursed the whim that made him make that idiot bet for the thousandth time. With his luck, he'd be stuck out here in the bush for a week before the first forward patrol showed up. They'd been out in the cold and damp for three days, and that dusky barbarian hadn't found so much as a whiff of anything nasty.

Then J'Mira appeared as if by magic at his side. "I just got a whiff of something nasty. Have your men saddle up and be ready to move."

Wengrel rabidly disliked taking orders from anyone, especially someone who dressed like the worst sort of backwoods peasant. But he'd made a deal, and this was part of it.

The other, lighter barbarian appeared out of a shadow. "We have a party of five riders, but they aren't mounted on horses."

"What are they riding?"

"Some kind of horselike reptile."

"Sirrush," Henrak said in a nervous whisper. "Dragon horses. They can smell the blood of men even as it flows in their veins."

Kitsune gave an evil kitten grin. "Good to know. I was wondering how we were going to steer these fools in the right direction." She went over to the horse of one of Wengrel's men and gingerly took a funky smelling breachcloth from one of the bags. Holding it far from her face, she told the riders, "Move downwind. I'm going to leave a trail for those...what did you call them?"

"Sirrush. Dragon horses."

"Whatever. This may not smell of blood, but it reeks of Man." With that, she was gone.

 

*****

Several hours later, Kitsune's game of Fox and Hounds wound up with her hiding up in the branches of a tree other than the one she'd climbed. The five reptiloid riders got off their equally cold-blooded steeds, and climbed to peer over the crest that they'd come to. As Kitsune had planned, the crest overlooked the Jarrow river and had a wonderful view of the Plandury bridge. The lizard men carefully took in all the activity on the bridge. Knowing her cue, Kitsune pulled Foxglove's mirror out of her sash. She concentrated on Foxglove until the Illusionist's image appeared in the mirror. "Red! Red, can you hear me?"

Foxglove ran her finger across her nose. "Dammit, Red, this is no time to get all Paul Newman on me! Can you hear me?"

"Yes!" Foxglove hissed under her breath.

"It's showtime! If you're gonna do it, do it NOW!"

Foxglove nodded, and briskly clapped her hands for attention. As the reptilians watched, all work on the bridge abruptly ceased, and everyone got off the bridge at a trot, taking their tools with them.

A few minutes after the last man was off the bridge, Doctor Zohar strode purposefully up to the landing. He held the Drakylon's Pearl high in one hand, and his staff high in the other. Darts of purple flame came from the pearl and flew to the ten jars of oil that were stored on the bridge. The jars erupted in volcanoes of fire, the straw everywhere caught fire and the entire bridge was enveloped in flame. The lizardmen hissed something to each other, and made their way to their mounts.

As the lizardmen started to ride in the direction from which the Army would come, Kitsune paced them up in the branches. Once they were out of the trees at a full trot, she dove from the branches, taking the rearmost rider out of his saddle. One of the other riders saw this and gave a loud, rattling warning hiss. In reply, Kitsune gave a shrill blast on a whistle, and returned to garrotting her victim.

From another copse of trees, Henrak and Wengrel's squads came at the lizardmen at a full charge. Normally, mounted cavalry considers it dishonorable to strike at their enemy's mounts; after all you can't blame the horse for what the rider does. And, afterwards, you could be the richer for a very nice piece of horseflesh. But these mounts weren't horses, they were Sirrush, which routinely fed on the flesh of men. The humans came in three chevrons, each one aiming primarily for the fearsome Dragon-horses. The Dragon horses would have easily outpaced the mundane horses, if not for the fact that one after the other, the point steed would find its forelocks entangled in bolas cords. This slowed the others down enough for the lancer to close and deal with them.

Finally, the three surviving lizardmen were on the ground, their klanths at the ready. If they were men, Chivalry would have demanded dismounting and dealing with them on foot. But they weren't men, they were swamp scum that had crawled out of their proper element. The riders formed into three chevrons again, the first wave as lancers, and the second and third waves switching to swords. The third wave didn't get a chance to wet their blades.

The men gave a loud 'huzzah!' as they realized their victory. J'Mira walked out from her place of concealment, unstringing her bow for travel. "Say," she queried, "weren't we supposed to let one of them live?"

Henrak pulled his helmet off and wiped his brow. "When you are fighting dragonkin, mount or rider, you don't aim to stun or wound. It's kill or be killed."

"Yeah, but the entire point of this-"

"Hush!" Kitsune walked up to them, leading her target's Sirrush mount. While the Sirrush was obviously trying to resist her, she had one of the whiskerlike barbels on its snout wrapped around two fingers. Every time the Sirrush tried to balk, she tug at it. Apparently the barbel was very sensitive, and the Dragon horse let itself be led around by it. "Our bunny is back there, playing dead. Or, he may really be unconscious. Either way, we'll let him think that I left him for dead. This way, he'll have a hair-raising story (for those of them that have hair) of how he barely escaped with the story that we want him to tell."

Wengrel gave the Sirrush a wary look over. "Why did you take that cold-blooded thing prisoner? I can understand why you didn't just let it roam free, but why not just kill it?"

"What, my Lord of Ressellowe, you don't fancy yourself riding into Seth-Barrak on the back of a Dragon horse? Actually, it just strikes me that taking ol' Napalm here-" The Sirrush bridled and gave a short burst of flame from it's mouth. Kitsune twitched at his barbel and gave him a smack on the snout with her staff. "Stop that! That Napalm here would be a wonderful piece of evidence to take to Seth-Barrak. Just hearing about this scary threat is one thing - seeing this fearsome beast is another. Foxglove made a point of taking the company standard from that forraging party that we took out. This Sirrush should attest to the Army's existance, that standard should prove their organization. Once the people back in Seth-Barrak understand what they're dealing with, maybe we'll get some real action."

J'Mira took one of the other barbels in her hand and went eye-to-eye with the Sirrush. "Listen up, Butane-breath, give Sister Kitsune any problems, and I'll kick your scaley ass into the nearest glacier, where you'll freeze into a newt-sickle!"

The Sirrush seemed to take her at her word, and dociled down.

Wengrel looked at Kitsune with the irritable air of a man who really wants a bath. "Well, we've played out the charlatan's little charade. Can we go back to Plandury now?"

An evil little kitten smile quirked across Kitsune's face. "Oh, most certainly, oh honorable noble sir!" She hiked herself up onto the Sirrush's back. "As a matter of fact, I insist on it!"

The two companies of men made their way toward Plandury at a walk. That is, they did until they saw the column of smoke coming from that direction. "No! She wouldn't! She Couldn't! She CAN'T!" Wengrel gasped. The spurred his mount to a gallop, and the rest were obliged to follow.

As he came out of the woods into the clearing just before the bridge, Wengrel stopped. All momentum drained out of him as he saw the span engulfed in flames, felt the heat and was almost overpowered by the smoke.

The rest of the company rode up. Henrak was less worried with the pecuniary repercussions of the destruction of the bridge than he was with the fact that he was now on the same side of the river as the darkling Army, with no way to get across.

He rode to the edge of the river and hallooed across, "Hallloooo... Can anyone hear me?"

A voice hallooed back, "Henrak! Is that you?"

"Olmer! Olmer, is there any way for us to get over?"

"Yes! We've been preparing some ferry barges! The witch wanted them to handle any refugees that show up, and they should hold about four men and their mounts each. We have four of them, but it will still take some time!"

Henrak turned to his sergeant. "Breven, I want you to oversee getting the horses across, and then the men. Lord Wengrel, the ladies and I will be on the last boat over." He shot Wengrel a look that didn't bode well for the scion of House Ressellowe if he argued the point.

As the Bishop's captain had predicted, it did take a while getting all the horses and men across the river by ferry. Waiting besides the burning bridge in the barely restrained company of a Dragon horse did little to improve Wengrel's mood. By the time he got across the river, the second son of Ressellowe was ready to strangle someone, and he had a very particular person in mind.

The moment he was on firm ground the first words out of his mouth were, "Where IS She? Where is that lying, double-dealing, conniving, carrot-brained, little slut of a  _Witch_?"

Mornsong smiled puckishly and called out, "Oh,_Foxglove_! I think you're being paged!"

Foxglove came out of the mayor's house wearing her traveling clothes. "Oh, you're finally back! Well, why don't you get into a bath and get yourself into a real bed. We'll be off for Seth-Barrak first thing in the morning."

Wengrel's blade was out of it's sheath in a single fluid move and he charged at the the sorceress. Henrak noticed that no one was making a move to protect the woman, not even her traveling companions. Intrieged, he watched.

Foxglove barely restrained herself from giggling as Wengrel chased her. She dodged around a bit and then went at a full charge toward the bridge, Wengrel close behind.

Then suddenly, impossibly, she ran straight onto the bridge and into the flames.

Wengrel came to a halt completely flabberghasted. "It's a trick. It has to be a trick!" he muttered to himself.

"Of course it's a trick" Foxglove poked her head out of a sheet of fire. "You don't honestly think your mayor would actually let us torch this bridge, do you?"

Jassen, Olmer and Breshak were there, laughing themselves near to sick. Henrack calmly walked up. "It's an illusion, isn't it?"

Foxglove walked past the limp Wengrel. "Yep. The only thing better than burning a bridge is having your enemy think that you've burned the bridge. Care for a drink to cut the dust?"

Henrak took Wengrel by the shoulders and steered him in the direction of the tavern.

 

*****

Once they were sufficiently fortified, Henrak asked Foxglove, "Well, I hate to give you a chance to show off again-"

"Don't worry, you get used to it, after a while," J'Mira interjected.

"-but what was all that about?"

Foxglove preened a bit and said, "Well, the first thing that occured to us was that the War Horseman had absolutely NO intention of taking that bridge."

"WHAT? That's ridiculous! Other than that bridge, the only other way across the Jarrow river is the Marshall's Ford at Jarrow Bend! No general worth his feathers would risk crossing a ford with the far side defended, when he has a perfectly suitable bridge available!"

"True, but we know something about the War Horseman that you don't. We've dealt with him before. First of all, he's a vampire. The last time we ran into him, he was raiding far to the south for zombie slaves, probably learning the lay of the land as he did it. You see, the Horseman works with two associates. We've already seen one of them, the Vampire anti-cleric that was riding that Juggernaut. The other one is a vampiric sorceress, and we haven't seen hide nor hair of her yet. And she isn't the sort that keeps a low profile."

"I thought Dr. Zohar's tower-trap killed their mages."

"No, it took care of thirteen of them. But, there are undoubtedly more that the Horseman chose not to risk dealing with the tower. Zohar was keeping track of all the mages that surrounded that tower of his, and he's sure that she _wasn't_ one of those surrounding it when it blew. Now, here's the thing - that vampiric raiding party was going _very_ deep into Imperial territory. What are the odds that they had to cross at least one or two rivers to do it?"

Wengrel shrugged. "What's your point?"

"My point is, that raiding party was made up completely of vampires and zombies, _who can't cross running water under their own power_!"

Then it hit Henrak. "So, you think the reason that they were able to go so far, across so many running rivers, is that this vampiric sorceress has some spell to stop running water?"

"OR cause the waters to part, or turn the water into ice or stone or something, or create an instant bridge - the possibilities are absolutely mind-numbing!"

"And if they use this spell at the Marshall's ford, they'll just charge across it as if it were a parade ground! They'll completely overwhelm the entrenched defenses, who were expecting them to have to wade across! They weren't interested in this bridge at all!"

"Actually, they were very interested in the bridge. They wanted to burn it. After all, they wouldn't want us to have a clear shot at their rear flank, now would they?"

Wengrel slammed his tankard down on the bar with a resounding thud. "And I'm very grateful t'you for saving my father's bridge. But did you have to trick me like that, making a fool of me in front of my men and everyone?"

"As a matter of fact, my lord of Ressellowe, I did. It has to do with the nature of illusions. Y'see, illusions are delicately balanced between belief and disbelief. While we made that illusion as realistic as possible, with bales of burning hay and smudge pots, what was really necessary was that someone with a real interest in that bridge whole-heartedly believe that it was burning. When you, Henrak and your men rode up, you were utterly convinced that we'd torched it. In a way, that made it very real, on that side of the bridge."

Henrak's sergeant, Breven, finished swallowing his ale. "But if everyone on THIS side of the river knows that it's just an illusion, doesn't that weaken its reality?"

"Good for you! You've been paying attention! Normally, it would. But, when we crossed the river, I noticed something odd. The basic... tone... of the land on this side of the river is different from the other side. I asked Zohar, Mornsong, Kitsune and J'Mira, and they all agree. The river somehow insulates one side from the other. And the illusion is grounded on the dividing point - the river itself. So, what the people think on this side doesn't affect the consensus of belief on the other side. I put a charm on J'Mira so that her disbelief wouldn't affect the illusion, and Kitsune had her zen tricks to keep from spoiling the affect. But I still needed your complete conviction that the bridge was on fire, which was why we sent barges over to collect you, rather than spoil the affect. Since the darkling scouts saw it also, and I'm sure that word of it has passed along the length of the other side, for all practical purposes, the bridge really IS on fire. Until we send columns of cavalry across it from this side to attack the darklings' undefended rear flank, that is." With that, Foxglove drained her drink and sat there, looking insufferably pleased with herself.

Wengrel glowered into his drink. "The worst part of all this is, I owe the arrogant bitch, and I can't even smack her down without being an ingrate."

CHAPTER 26

But The Bumblebee Flies Anyway

As Foxglove said, first thing in the morning, they were off for Seth-Barrak. Wengrel nearly had another fit when he saw the charred ruins of the bridge. "I thought you said that it was just an illusion!"

As she calmly curried Horndog's mane, Foxglove replied, "It was, and that is, too. After all, people are going to start wondering if that bridge keeps burning for the next week or so, don't you think? So, I crafted two illusions - one of the bridge burning, and another of the bridge as a burned out wreck. But it's still a perfectly sound physical structure under all that soot. By the way, Wengrel, you really should thank the Mayor for letting me burn his model of the bridge - it was a great help in crafting both illusions."

Wengrel leaned over to Jassen and muttered, "Is there any chance that she actually asked the Mayor if she could burn his model?" Jassen shook his head.

They would have gotten out earlier, but Brugen and the other Flournoy watchmen had become very protective of the two-foot tall 'tower' that was their charge. Zohar watched them carefully lash the little ark onto a wagon. "You don't really have to worry, you know. Everyone and everything that we put into the tower isn't really in there. When I shrank the tower, I moved it and everything in it into an alternate plane of existence. That tower is just sort of the tip of the tower, poking into this plane, keeping it anchored."

But he could have been speaking Greek as far as they were concerned. They just padded the tower with blankets and made double sure of their knots.

Justin came over. "Even if they understood all that, it wouldn't matter, Zohar. Those men swore vows to defend Flournoy. Now, Flournoy is ashes. They feel dishonored."

"But there was nothing that they could have done to stop that Army!"

"True enough. But seeing those people get out of that tower is the closest they'll get to keeping their vow. Right now, they need to watch over that tower. Their honor depends on it."

It took them two days to get to Seth-Barrak. It shouldn't have taken them that long, but the roads were choked with ragtag bands of refugees. Many of them were on the last leg of the journey to the perceived safety of the city.

It was late in the afternoon when the entourage neared Seth-Barrak. Their first sight of the city was overshadowed by the castle that dominated the city in every sense of the word. When Foxglove saw it, she stopped Horndog and took a long second look. She held her hand and said, "A moment, my lords! I need to have a confidential word with my colleagues."

When they were by themselves, Hargrim asked, "Okay, Miss Mojo, what is it THIS time? See a purple cow?"

"Damn near, Spudwad. Look up there. What do you see?"

They turned and looked. The general consensus was that it was a castle. "Okay, it's a tad Disney for my tastes, but what of it?" J'Mira conceded.

"It's more than just Disney - it's Ludwig the second of Bavaria."

There was a unanimous 'Hunh?'

"That castle up there is Shloss Neuschwanstein, the most photographed castle in our world. It was built in the mid-19th Century by King Ludwig II of Bavaria, often called 'Mad King Ludwig'. He was a borderline psychotic who ruled that country before it was united with the rest of the Germanies under the Kaiser. He was addicted to the romantic imagery of Richard Wagner. He drove Bavaria into near bankruptcy by squandering state funds on building a series of fabulous but useless castles to allow him to indulge in his gothic fantasies. And that pile up there is a near duplicate of Neuschwanstein, Ludwig's greatest folly."

"Maybe they just look a lot alike," Avon objected. "I mean, one airy-fairy castle looks pretty much like another. And how can you be so sure, just from a look?"

"Hey, I'm a gamer and a GM. Like a lot of other GMs, I studied the layout and architecture of Neuschwanstein for ideas for castles and like that of my own. Only Mad King Ludwig would design a castle with that pointless layout. It's completely useless as a fortified military emplacement. And there's one other thing - it's impossible."

Mornsong gave a snort. "We're in a world with undead monsters, dragons, unicorns, snakemen and the Goddess alone knows what, and she's caviling about a stupid _castle_? Foxglove, who knows what's possible on this world?"

"Mornsong, even with all the weirdness going on, there's still a sort of sense to this place. The roads aren't paved, because the aristocracy depends on cavalry to maintain its power, and paving the roads would injure the horse's hooves. Villages are laid out radiating from water sources. The vast majority of the population works the land to produce food. All these things are determined by this area's level of technology, which is roughly that of the Middle Ages. But that castle up there _can't_ be built with medieval technology. You can't build high vaulting walls and towers like that just by laying stones. The Gothic Cathedrals of the period got around that by using external supports called 'flying buttresses', which that thing up there doesn't have. To build a wall like that without a flying buttress, you need a steel skeleton, the kind that they use to build skyscrapers. And to have enough steel to build that, you need something like the Bessemer Forge."

"So, maybe they _have_ a Bessemer Forge or something like it!"

"If they do, then why is it that the only steel we've seen so far has been in swords and spear-points? The pots, knives, utensils, even the armor are iron, not steel. And that means that steel is a very difficult alloy to produce. So, they can't have a Bessemer Forge."

The others' objections were beginning to fade in the force of Foxglove's logic. "Maybe the Dwarves built it? Dwarves were always creating fantastic things on order, in myths," Theocles tried. "Or maybe the Dwarves forged the steel for them?"

All eyes turned to Hargrim. He took a long draw on his stogie and cast a critical eye on the castle above. "Nope," he said resignedly. "There's no way that the King Under the Mountain would sell Humans that much steel. They'd be too likely to smelt the girders down and turn them into weapons and armor. And that thing up there isn't Dwarven work. And Foxglove's right - that thing can't exist."

Nobody dared add the obvious 'but it does'.

Lacking any further evidence, they rode on and rejoined the nobles.

 

*****

The city of Seth-Barrak was packed between the shore of the Jarrow River and the bluff on which the Prince's improbable palace was set. The entered the Eastern gate on the watch lieutenant's recognition of Breshak, the Sergeant of the Prince's Guard. Breshak, it seemed, was Sergeant to the Captain of the Guard, and so outranked the watch lieutenant. Which apparently made sense to _them_. Breshak's men took the lead, escorting them through the narrow, densely packed streets.

Napalm, as Kitsune had named the sirrush, almost went berserk. The overwhelming scent of so much humanity was almost too much for it. Kitsune had to get off and restrain it. J'Mira tried to talk a little sense into it, but it wasn't listening. It almost escaped from them, when Mornsong, who had been rummaging around in one of her traveling bags, pulled out a phial. "Hold him still for a moment!"

When J'Mira and Kit held the sirrush's nose still long enough, Mornsong brushed a dab across the snout and on the barbels. Napalm shook his muzzle for a moment, then grew placid, even dreamy.

"What is that stuff?" J'Mira asked.

"Essence of Dragonard. It acts sort of like catnip for dragonkin, but it also makes them sleepy. They use it to placate various dracoforms. I got it from the herbalist back in Plandury. I got it the second that you brought that thing in."

Even doped up with happy-oil, the Sirrush caused a bit of a commotion as it was brought through the castle's oh-so-picturesque main gate. Getting the reptilian critter stowed away was a minor adventure in itself - after all, who's fool enough to stable a carnivore with herbivores? They wound up putting it in a far corner that they didn't normally use because rats kept upsetting the horses. Poor rats.

Once that was taken care of, J'Mira and Kitsune went to see about their rooms, while Foxglove went to watch the grand 'decanting' of the shrunken tower. As Brugen and his watchmen carefully lowered the tower from the wagon to the ground, Zohar walked up with his colleague, Doctor Xenophanes. Xenophanes looked more like some liberal arts academic than a powerful adept. They hunched over the ark, nattering away in arcane jargon that even Foxglove had trouble following.

Several hours later, a page led Foxglove to the suite of apartments that she and her friends had been assigned. J'Mira was leaning out one of the windows, and Kitsune was nowhere in sight.

J'Mira looked around. "Hey, Red! What took you?"

"Hadda help Zohar and Xenophanes get that tower put to rights."

"Xenophanes?"

"The Prince's court magician. He looks like he should be grading term papers on the Lake Poets at some little New England college."

"Long ceremony?"

"Nope. Getting the tower right-sized again was a snap. The trick was keeping it from expanding too fast, or the people inside would get a some kind of version of the bends. Where's Kit?"

"Just a sec." J'Mira leaned back out the window, looked up and gave a shrill whistle. "Hey, Kit! Foxy's back!"

A few minutes later, a blur of saffron tumbled in through the window. Kitsune grinned at Foxglove, her eyes shining. Foxglove glowered at her. "You started without me."

"Naahh, just went to get a sneak preview. Red, this place rocks! There is a rookery set by the riverfront that is going to be a stone-cold GAS to get through! And let's not even _talk_ about the cathedral - or Great Temple - or whatever the Holy Church calls its major installations!"

"Gargoyles?"

"Gargoyle Central! And flying buttresses, and spires and a stained glass window that looks like Leonardo DiVinci worked on it!"

J'Mira threw them a look. "What ARE you two talking about?"

"Oh, just discussing the late evening's entertainment. Believe me, 'Mira, it's not your scene."

"Not to worry, Red. I already know what my late night entertainment's gonna be!" J'Mira said with a voluputous smile. "But what are you two up to? Just in case anybody asks..."

Kitsune described in true adrenaline junkie fashion their race around that town that they'd first stopped in. "And this is a real city! It's gonna take longer to cover the circumferance, but it will be worth it!"

"Really?" J'Mira's eyebrows almost raised up off of her head. "Well, while you're out, would you check something out for me?"

Foxglove looked like she was sucking on a lemon. She didn't like the idea of practical considerations mudding up her rooftop race with Kitsune. "That depends - what do you want us to check out?"

"Well, after you pointed out Schloss Newswanstein-"

"Neuschwanstein,"

"Whatever. After you pointed out this castle, I started noticing things. Remember, I told you that I was a Poli Sci major? Well, I also have a good background in History, and I know something about the role of technology on society-"

"Let me guess - you have James Burke's Connections on DVD, don't you?"

"Can I SAY this, already? After you pointed out this castle, I started noticing things - things like the fact that this city has sewers, which is completely wrong for the level of technology. Things like the fact that they don't have the horizontal loom or the spinning wheel."

Kitsune shrugged. "So what? What makes you think that they would have either of those things here?"

Foxglove nodded. "Simple, Kit - these hangings." Foxglove reached out and took a handful of a simple red wall hanging, probably kept there to cover the window and keep out the cold. "This fabric is too fine and even to be done on a vertical loom with homespun thread." Foxglove looked at J'Mira. "And how would you know that they DON'T have the horizontal loom or the spinning wheel?"

"Simple - I asked. I asked one of the serving women if they spun thread at nights to pass the time. She looked at me like she had no idea of what she was talking about. And I saw a verical loom being moved from a chamber to make room for the bigwigs that are coming."

Kitsune nodded. "So, anything else?"

"Lessee - the people are too clean, there are too many freaking baths around, and everyone has shoes."

"Shoes?"

"Remember, in a pre-industrial society, shoes are the product of a skilled crafter, using a pretty expensive material - tanned leather. Remember 'Puss in Boots'? The father left land to the eldest, money to the next eldest, and only a cat and a pair of boots to the youngest. But it wasn't a complete rip-off, because a well-made pair of boots was a pretty good thing to have.  I can't remember a single person that I saw during our travels who went barefoot or had their feet bound in rags, and from my readings, most people should have. Even the freaking beggars at least have run-down at the heels shoes."

Foxglove looked at Kitsune, and Kitsune looked back at her. They communicated with a few expressive shrugs. "Okay, you have a point. So, what do you want us to look out for?"

J'Mira sighed and centered herself. "Well, just look for things to prove or disprove my theories. Maybe there are huge tanneries that operate here and there's a gigantic cobblery trade, so that shoes are cheap around here. Look for warehouses full of hides, wool and such. Look for places with huge vats of rotting flax to make the linen that's everywhere. Just go and see what's out there, so that we can think this thing out logically!"

Foxglove pulled Kitsune aside. "First, we do a preliminary circuit of the city, looking for the things she said. THEN we have our race!"

"Kewl!"

 

 

Since 01/03/03